


A touch of spice

by Midknite



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Figging, M/M, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midknite/pseuds/Midknite
Summary: Marik is only committed to pepper Bakura with attentions until it's time to return home every day. Bakura loves to explore new ways to spice up their relationship.Written for Sitabethel's Thiefshipping Dirty Santa - Smut.Prompt: Figging





	A touch of spice

There was never a boring weekend for Bakura. He was currently sitting on the recliner in his apartment’s living room, watching Marik intently.

Marik had one leg crossed over the other in the office chair he was resting on. His purple eyes were lidded, and focused on the craft in his hands. He had taken the archetype of a manly man very seriously; he wore leather jackets, used strong lotions and camped in the woods next to a wildfire. That's how he had lately taken to the habit of carving wood figures. A little earlier in time and he could have bought into the idea of the Marlboro man and been a smoking cowboy. Bakura’s throat quivered a little; it was supposed to be a laugh, but his senses betrayed him and he made a small grunt.

Marik’s eyes fell on him for a couple of seconds, searching for another noise, or a gesture perhaps. He lowered his gaze again and tapped on the small remote on his lap.

A slightly louder buzz came from inside Bakura’s pants and he felt a change in the rhythm of the prostate massager inside him. He clenched his jaw and his wrists quivered slightly under the soft but tight shibari wrapping his wrists.

It was a game- a game of power over his body, and he was starting to lose.

“You’re taking your time.” Marik’s voice was casual and showed no rush; it was calm like a slow stream at times, but the times Bakura liked the most were when it came rushed and vicious like a whirlpool. Marik kept at his endeavor, a curl of wood forming around his thumb. The small figure of a rabbit was taking shape in his dexterous hands, hands that with the same care had explored every ridge of Bakura’s body.

There was always one point between struggling and giving up that gave Bakura the utmost pleasure.

“I’m waiting…I hate it when you make me wait,” Bakura said.

“Liar, you are the most patient being alive.”

The point was near…

“I didn’t have an Aneros inside…inside…me in the Ring.” The last word came soft as the small machine pushed mercilessly his insides.

Purple eyes were on him again as Marik stood up with a now obvious smile on his face. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

Marik's boots clacked on the floor as he walked around Bakura. Once Marik stood behind him, he leaned forward towards the recliner, moved Bakura's white mane to the side and breathed over his exposed neck, very pleased to see how every small hair stood up as a result of the action. He ran one finger down Bakura’s spine, and Bakura reacted by moving a bit backwards, trying to get more of the touch, more of the breath, more of anything. Marik looked up at the clock- it had been two hours. Breaking Bakura was a titanic work, but Marik wouldn’t have it any other way.

Marik’s teeth dragged against the sensitive skin of his neck and Bakura whimpered. Marik’s hand slid under the fabric of the blue and white striped shirt and something cold touched his nipple, hardening it in the process. It was something slippery and oily, and the strong scent that came up gave it away- camphor, menthol, eucalyptus, and nutmeg- a cough suppressant that served as lubricant as Marik pinched the fully erect nipple.

“Bakura, you’re taking your time. Let me help you decide.”

“Mmh… Marik…”

Marik smeared the other nub as well, thumbing it.

Bakura snarled, “Get over here.”

“Tell me my favorite word first,” Marik replied.

“Oh, fine! Please-” He all but mocked the word. “Now get over here or I’ll just come without you.”

“As if I’d let you.”

The buzz of the massager decreased as Marik walked around Bakura.

“Don’t you dare…” Bakura warned.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not silent anymore.” Marik stood in front of the recliner taking his clothes off, little by little, with less of a rush than before. The burn on Bakura’s nipples turned ice cold.

Once broken, Bakura’s foul mouth was open- that was the only problem, and the thief didn’t hesitate for a second in complaining. “Yes, Marik, let’s wait for hours. I have all the time in the wor… _Ah!_ ” The prostate massager vibrated at its maximum.

“Noises. Make more of those and less of your chatter.” Marik’s hands were back at Bakura’s chest, and after a hard rub Bakura became much more vocal and started moving his hips. Marik decided it was time; he set the action on the recliner and took Bakura’s pants off in order to remove the prostate massager and replace it with something more natural- his own cock.

The passage was ready and begging for more, but Marik was still delaying the process nonetheless, just sliding in half of his member.

“Marik, for how fucking long do I have to wait?”

“You were the one who was quiet a moment ago, now can’t you wait just a few seconds?”

Bakura growled and tried moving his hips, but Marik pressed their bodies together to pin him.

“Where’s your stubbornness now, huh?” Marik teased.

“I swear I’ll come just from having you half inside me and ruin your fun.”

“As hot as that sounds, I don’t see you pulling that off, Oh Thief King.”

“Are you going to start making fun of me? ‘Cause I’ll tell you everything I think of your fam…”

Bakura stopped mid-sentence, as Marik had started tweaking his nipples again.

“You didn’t have to stop talking,” Marik chuckled.

“Ngh…I wasn’t going to but you made my nipples burn. Rude.”

“Is it a good burn?”

“Ohhh…”

The massage made Marik’s fingers prickle as well, and suddenly he wasn’t interested in making Bakura suffer any longer, so he pushed further inside, deciding to give them both satisfaction.

Bakura wanted to move his hands, to touch Marik, but he could only moan his way up to his orgasm, this time totally hands free.

When they were both spent Marik untied the ropes and checked his wrists, kissing them in apology, and then he cleaned Bakura’s chest with a cloth. It was always Bakura’s favorite part, seeing Marik’s caring side, a side nobody aside from his siblings saw often.

They were both up again, and Bakura didn’t know how to say the thing that bothered him the most. Finally he blurted, “Would it kill you to stay at my place for a day?”

The zipper of Marik's cargo pants was up. “Bakura, you know the deal- we hang out, we have fun, I sleep at my place.”

“Party-wrecker,” Bakura mumbled, taking a swig of water to cool down after the hot session.

Marik loved his motorcycle and loved to play tough, but what he loved more than anything was freedom. Bakura could understand- he had freedom, lots of it, too much of it. He considered for a moment that he might be getting old at last, after 3,000 years.

“We could do it in the middle of the night, you know? We could do it in the morning, before work. What are you so afraid of?”

Marik smirked. “Only kids try to convince others by calling them chicken, and besides, I need to work early in the mornings; we can’t be ‘doing it’ all night.”

“Fine _, chicken_. Leave then. You’ll come in a few days and be on your knees to have more of my glorious mouth.”

“Wouldn’t you be the one on your knees for that though?”

“Ugh!“

Bakura threw Marik’s jacket at him; however, they were both laughing.

When Marik said goodnight and closed the door there were no more laughs. Freedom was nice, but solitude, not so much.

The blinking light of the computer was inviting, so Bakura decided to waste some time on the internet. He wanted a new idea for the next time Marik decided to show up, so he browsed for some new kinky ways to heighten his senses. Even though Marik was usually the creative force behind their power games, Bakura brought some ideas to the table as well sometimes, always looking to expand their experiences.

Bakura’s thin fingers pressed on his bottom lip; he thought of what parts he liked the most of their twisted practices.

He was thrilled by sensory play and the feeling of being studied. Marik had never before had experience with the outside world- everything was new, and everything was an experiment. Bakura couldn’t deny the thrill of feeling like a butterfly fixed by needles and pins, kept for morbid curiosity

Bakura didn’t know what Marik was thrilled about exactly, but he knew he always got a hard on from Bakura’s obscene ways and bawdy language- the more exposed and daring, the better.

As he read about various kinks, he thought of how good his partner was getting at sex games. Such a contrast to the first time they'd kissed, months after he'd gotten his own body, on Marik’s 19th birthday. It had been in a dark cinema, watching a war movie, and he'd been whispering in Marik’s ear- some commentary on the movie, nothing important. Then their gazes had met and he had leaned in and pressed their lips together. Just like two teenagers, they'd opened up into the kiss slowly, sloppily, exploring each other's mouths with naîve curiosity. And now Bakura was reading about freaking sensation play sex.

A post talked about stinging sensations. He read about some substances and objects that they had put into practice already and smiled with each he saw, remembering the pleasurable feeling of Marik’s pulsing cock wrapped in a fire and ice condom, Marik’s merciless fingers on his cock coated with cinnamon oil, an ice dildo on his prostate, a blowjob with breath oral strips. A tongue kiss with pop rocks had been the first one; vapor rub on his nipples had been the last one. As he scrolled down the kink site, he saw mentions of harder sensations.

Bakura leaned closer to the screen, attentive to the words. “Figging: The act of inserting a peeled ginger in…”

Holy sky dragon Osiris…

A click on the link and the site loaded, displaying a ginger root shaped in a lewd shape above safety tips for an old practice, reserved for people who liked strong sensations and enjoyed the delicate balance between pleasure and pain.

Bakura felt instantly hooked by the idea. He felt naughty just thinking about the piquant fibers heating up his system. He printed the information. Marik wasn’t a fan of computers anyway- really, he wasn’t either, but during the years in Ryou’s body he'd had to learn.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

At six in the afternoon the next Saturday there was a familiar knock on the door. It had been an entire week, because Marik and his siblings had traveled to Japan for a week to take some archaeological documents to the museum. Bakura felt the emptiness of his absence more than ever. Marik normally came to his place 3 or 4 times a week, and 7 days was too long, much too long. He rushed to the door.

Marik was smiling, with his backpack on a shoulder and takeout food in his hands. Bakura leaped on him like an abandoned dog. Marik kissed back but pulled away too soon.

“What’s with you? The neighbors are going to see us.”

“They should know by now, if our moaning reaches their apartments. I'm sure they won’t care.” He tried to kiss Marik again but he was grabbed by the waist.

“Come on, let’s eat first. I’m starving,” Marik said.

Bakura stabbed his stir fried beef with the fork, visibly upset that they had to eat before touching, and not only that, but Marik had to go soon.

“I’ll come on weekdays; we could go to the movies if you want. I heard of a new blockbuster success that…”

Bakura had stopped listening; he’d found a piece of a yellow translucent plant in his food- ginger. He took it and put it in his mouth. The soft sheet slid between his tongue and palate, and he bit it. With a soft crunch the ginger left a lovely sensation in his mouth, refreshing and hot at the same time. He thought about the kink site again and the heat rose on his face, and his underwear.

“Is it too hot?”

“Hm?”

“You’re red.”

Bakura coughed a bit. “It can’t be too hot, I am very good with spicy things. You know that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“How good you are?

“The best.”

“So a simple pepper is not too hot for you?”

“Nope, not at all.”

Marik stood up and walked towards his chair, and Bakura got excited. What if Marik already knew what he was craving? Marik took one of the whole dried sautéed peppers from the dish.

Oh.

His chin was tilted by Marik’s brown fingers. “Stay still then.”

Marik rubbed the cut pepper on the seam of Bakura’s lips, and the capsaicin left a trail of sensations that Bakura loved. He loved gritting his teeth, trying to not to lick his lips to cool the prickle as the pink skin flared up at the contact with the seeds. Marik ran his tongue over Bakura’s quickly drying lips, cooling them down just a tad. Bakura searched for Marik’s mouth but in a moment it was gone, and the pepper was back.

“I want to see your tongue.”

Bakura felt bratty enough to show his tongue as impolitely as he could. Marik didn’t say a word; he just dragged the spice on the wet sides of his tongue, rubbing with more intensity than he had done with his lips. Bakura’s sarcastic gesture was gone.

The circling of the fruit on the tip of his tongue made him sniff. The ardent desire was building a sharp and dire feeling in his belly. He directed a longing look at Marik, who attacked Bakura’s neck in seconds, snapping quickly like a shark, trapping Bakura’s Adam’s apple, causing his throat moved with a gulp and a whine. It was Marik’s turn to complain. “Now I just want to fuck you.”

“Who’s stopping you? I’m ready.”

“You know I can’t stay for long. It's Ishizu’s birthday and I have to go in 40 minutes.”

“Just a quickie.” Bakura’s hands held Marik’s head in place. The sensuous feeling of his moving mouth made him crave more than just teasing and kisses.

“We can’t do it quick, you should know that by now.”

“It’s been a week, Marik!”

Marik pulled Bakura up from the chair and dragged him to the living room. Marik lay down on the sofa, fumbling with his buttons and zipper, and Bakura smirked, getting the hint. He quickly pumped the lubricant from the bottle beside the lamp and put his hand to work. If Marik only had a little time, he’d have to do this as fast as he could. A few movements with his fingers and he was on top of Marik, squatting and hovering over him.

Marik’s member was swollen and also ready it seemed. However, it took more movements than usual to get it inside him.

“Oomph, you are really tight.”

“A whole…week…Marik…Mhh…"

The clock ticked by, and Marik glanced at it, but his vision was blurry. Bakura’s body was swallowing him, enveloping him as tightly as possible, his soft insides pressing against him.

Marik’s nails raked Bakura’s front, and he snarled as he pushed up harder, making Bakura howl in pleasure.

“Shh…Bakura…I...”

The rhythm became rampant and uneven, their grunts and moans blending together, and then Bakura felt a flood inside him. It was a larger quantity than he was used to. He barely heard Marik mumbling an apology, and then saw him turning his face away and searching for Bakura’s dick to make it up for him.

“No need to feel embarrassed ‘cause you haven’t jerked off and I was tight enough to make you come quicker.”

“Gods of the Nile…. Shut up! Do you want me to finish you or not?"

“Oh I want it, you bet I want it.” Bakura helped Marik’s hand with the rhythm he needed.

Marik seemed to be sulking still. “I don’t tease you when you come early.”

“Lies...all lies.” Bakura thrust into to Marik’s lubed hand. Then Marik's other hand was reaching for something on the side table. Marik’s fingers squeezed the pepper from the stir fry.

“Marik Ishtar, you cunning sexy bastard.”

“Who was bragging about his spice tolerance? Suck."

His fingers went to Bakura’s lips as he continued to touch him. Bakura’s member twitched as he moaned, delirious.

“You’re harder now,” Marik pointed out.

Bakura just kept licking and sucking the spice up. When Marik clenched his fist tighter, Bakura made an undignified noise. It was revenge on Marik’s part, sweet and silky revenge that came with Bakura’s twisting body and his soft noises and pleading eyes.

Climax came too soon, and Bakura cussed; he hated coming early. It wasn’t because of pride like Marik- it was his insatiable greed.

After cleaning up their mess, Marik stood at the sink, washing his hands and face.

Bakura watched him, leaning on the wall. “I want to try something new up my ass- it’s called figging.”

Bakura always had a nonchalant way of asking for what he wanted, so Marik just chuckled, fixing his hair in the mirror. “So you put figs on..?”

“No, a peeled ginger."

Marik stopped combing and started, looking lost. He had never heard of it, obviously, and maybe he didn’t have enough technology knowledge to look it up in the more prurient part of the internet.

Bakura laughed. “You look like you’re about to have a meltdown or something.”

“Wouldn’t that burn like hell?”

“That’s kind of the point."

“You’re absolutely nuts, Bakura. But I guess it's no worse than cinnamon oil.”

Yes. Success. Bakura smirked proudly. “We should do that the next time you come by.”

“Okay… Sure.”

After a few kisses that left them both dizzy, Marik teased Bakura about his becoming a were-leech, or something like that. Bakura pinched his butt and Marik left with the promise of bringing a ginger root next time.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Tuesday was a hot day. April wasn’t normally as warm as the summer months, but that day was especially awful. Bakura had just finished cleaning himself up for the session with Marik, but then he decided to go for a shower afterwards. Who knew how much warmer the day was going to get for him. Internally.

He didn’t bother to put a shirt on; he just walked around the apartment with jeans on, full commando. When Marik knocked, his hair was more or less dry.

“You’re late.” Bakura crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s not easy to find a big piece of ginger.” Marik lifted the grocery bag with the lump inside and stepped inside. “Apparently it has to fit in your big ass, so…”

Bakura punched Marik’s shoulder, and the latter put the grocery bag on the table and proceeded to grab both of Bakura’s hands. They were both struggling, but Marik’s hands were obviously more skilled, so he pressed Bakura into the wall and made him slap his own nose softly. Bakura laughed so much that his stomach started to hurt. So much that he had to use the safe word, and that was not the context he was expecting to use it in that day.

Marik stopped respectfully and kissed Bakura’s face. He checked the clock and saw that they should be getting ready if he wanted to go home early, so he walked towards the kitchen.

Bakura was ready to tease some more though. “So… Ready to _spice_ up our sex life?”

Marik stopped with a puzzled look. “Did you just..?”

“After all, it’s not _chilli_ outside today.” Bakura’s white eyebrows wiggled.

“Ha ha, Bakura.”

“You can _curry_ me to the bedroom.”

Marik just gave a pointed look.

“We should do this very _gingerly_ ,” Bakura continued.

Marik rubbed his face, giving the most irritated sigh.

Bakura cooed again, stifling a laughter “What is the _sauce_ of your embarrassment?”

“What the hell?”

“You can tell me after this that my ass is super _hot_.”

Marik groaned. “Stop! Just stop!”

Bakura laughed hysterically, tilting his face to the ceiling. Marik hadn’t seen him so lively and strangely, genuinely happy in a while, so he didn’t want to restrict him too much, but the series of puns was getting too painful to hear.

“You’re so lame,” Marik stated bitterly.

Discarding the plastic bag, Marik took out the hand of ginger and stared at it for a moment, regarding it with the caution with which one would regard a venomous spider.

“Are you scared?” Bakura asked. “That would be rich coming from a cruelty expert.”

“Of putting you through torture? Why would I be?”

“You care, perhaps.” Bakura flopped into a dining room chair.

Marik’s right bottom eyelid made a small, almost imperceptible movement. Maybe he was concerned, but unable to show anything…as always, everything was about seeing who gave in first. Bakura huffed, frustrated.

“We’ll see about that.” Marik’s voice was firm, unmovable like a mountain. The ginger was now being carefully washed under the faucet.

“I can never win with you,” Bakura complained.

A sharp blade popped out with the flick of a wrist and Marik started shaving the root slowly, the knife dragging over the aromatic vegetable making a pleasant sound. Bakura watched, fidgeting in his seat, the anxiety and horniness building up in anticipation, his patience running thin.

The shape was taking form in Marik’s hands- it was long for an anal plug, but short for a dildo, with a base thicker than the rest where the handle started. He passed the knife several times over the yellow meat until he decided it was less abrasive and more uniform. Then he rinsed the skin off with cold water, carefully washing his hands afterwards and taking the organic dildo by the handle where the skin was still on.

“Say, isn’t this a piece of work?” Marik smiled proudly.

“Yes, very crafty, maybe you could make a replica of your cock so I can be fucked at any time, and aIl I want.”

Marik’s lip curled up. “My dick can do a much better job.”

“You don’t want to give it to me at night, so maybe I need a backup.”

“Just get ready, you prick.”

“You can’t seriously be jealous of a hypothetical wooden replica of your own cock.”

“I am not jealous, just… stop being a pest and get on the bed.”

“Yes sir!” Bakura scoffed.

The squabble relaxed them as they walked to the room, to the unknown.

Bakura stripped his pants away and got on all fours on the mattress, his feet slightly apart. Marik put the plate with the ginger nearby and tied Bakura's ankles with slip-knots, only there to remind Bakura to be still.

Softly spreading Bakura’s cheeks, Marik ran his index finger over the cleft and pushed slowly inside the ring of muscle with just few drops of lube- he’d read that using too much would mute the sensation for Bakura, and he definitely didn’t want that, did he? Marik stopped his motions, furrowing his brows. Would this really hurt badly? Bakura would brag about his pain tolerance, he’d cackle manically while stabbing himself, he'd laugh when hurt in duels, moan when taken aggressively, ask for more while his hair got pulled, but this seemed totally different.

“Now who’s taking his time?”

Marik shook his head and kept on prepping Bakura. After a couple of minutes the opening was so ready his fingers were all but sucked up inside, and Marik grunted, resisting the urge to forget about the stupid ginger and just take Bakura then and there.

“You can stop this at any time,” Marik instructed.

“Yeah yeah, spare me the bureaucracy.” Bakura scratched at the itch the rope was giving him in his right ankle.

Marik growled and started pushing the ginger inside. If the stupid thief was so confident of his stainless steel rectum it wouldn’t be his problem if it ended up on literal fire.

The peeled knob was smooth, much more than Bakura had thought a very porous root would be, especially since before being peeled it looked rough enough to enter him with the slipperiness of a rock. But it was damp and soft; it wasn’t as easy as a lubed dildo, but it was slick enough to get inside.

The first sensation was a tingle that made him shudder with delight. It built up slowly, and Bakura’s ass closed a little around it and it squeezed the ginger softly. What came after was more than a tingle, it was a warming tremor.

It was intense, and Bakura heaved out a breath. The burn made him almost want it out…but he didn’t, because he thoroughly enjoyed the burn as the oil was absorbed by his sensitive tissue. It was unbearably delicious. He felt a rising wave of heat that took over every inch of his body, making his skin shine with sweat.

The silence was building up little by little. Marik looked up at the clock and saw it had only been two minutes, and he could already hear ragged breathing. He made a personal goal to break Bakura earlier than usual that night. He drove the plug all the way in, until it stopped at the concave end, where the handle started.

Bakura took a shaky intake of air. The point between struggling and giving up was being clouded by an inner turmoil, but it couldn’t be that he was there already. He fisted the sheets, resolved to make it last, as always.

Marik laughed softly and breathed on Bakura’s hanging sac, talking while dragging his lips on it, his voice was seductive and daring. “I never thought I would put condiments on you before eating you.” Marik licked it up and down.

Bakura twitched, keeping his voice at bay. But soon a scream passed through the silence like a cutting knife.

Marik, ever so cunning Marik, had kept a slice of the ginger and made his thumb well covered in its oil, then rubbed it against the tip of his cock.

“Oh my god!”

“That’s me.”

“W…what?”

“Your god, obviously,” Marik teased.

“Marik!”

The burn in his hole was making him shake, and Marik stopped in his tracks when he felt how much Bakura was moving. Bakura hit the mattress with both fists.

“Bakura, what is the safe word?”

“F-fuck…” Bakura’s voice died out.

“Bakura, what is the safe word?” Marik’s voice rose with urgency.

“ _Peraa_ …” A choked word.

“Do you want to use the safe word?”

Bakura took a huge gasp of air and yelled, “No, Marik, just touch me dammit!”

Marik heard himself sigh in relief and pursed his lips. Maybe he did care…just a little.

“Burn me all the way! What are you waiting for? Is this getting too harsh for you? Is that what’s...?”

A harsh slap against his butt made Bakura gasp and quiver against his palms.

“Is this enough burn for you?”

Bakura didn’t reply; he was drowning in the maddening heat the ginger provided when his gut tightened around it.

A brown hand again smacked the round peach-like bum, already reddening from the hit from his open palm, and Bakura groaned, his breathing coming in small gasps. His insides felt like molten lava and his erection was a raging fire, hanging firmly between his legs.

Marik kissed the trembling red skin, hearing Bakura sob and moan.

Bakura: his first kiss, his first time, his first everything. Marik felt a burn inside, as if he had the ginger under his ribs. He nuzzled the appearance of his hand on the white canvas of Bakura's skin.

“Don’t I love leaving my mark on you, _mrwy.”_

Bakura moaned loudly, not just from the potent pricking, but moreso from the affectionate words. Verbal affection had never been common with Marik, and if the words were appearing now, that meant Marik was more invested than what he wanted to admit. Maybe this was the day when Bakura could finally trap that evasive man in his web. He acted shamelessly provocative, dropping his head and shoulders to the mattress and arching his back, pointing his rear end at Marik, opening his knees a bit further. He whimpered lowly for a better effect. “M... Marik…”

Marik loved all the small noises, but he loved even more how exposed and vulnerable Bakura seemed. It was a gift that he'd never witnessed before, so he just stared in awe; it looked like Marik _had_ gotten a thrill after all.

“Like the view?” Bakura made his butt jiggle slightly.

Something clicked inside Marik and he grabbed Bakura’s ass, firmly massaging it and making it shake vigorously, and Bakura cried out a stream of every single curse he knew. The rough movements created a quake of sharp stimulation that ended up causing a long crystalline string of precome to leak from his red cock.

Eager to do even more, Marik took the moment to lie down and put his mouth around Bakura.

Bakura was in a tormented frenzy, the sensory overload making him shake and moan until his eyes watered- if an orgasm was a wave he felt a tsunami coming his way.

“Ohh…oh, Marik…OH!” The piercing heat and wetness of Marik's mouth made Bakura wail in an outburst of passion. He sprayed Marik’s mouth with hot sticky come, his mind long gone, submerged on a trip that seemed to take forever. His ears were blocked and he panted, feeling only that his cheek was soaked in drool.

After mumbling Marik’s name over and over, Bakura could finally focus. Marik was also wet between his bronze thighs- he’d probably pleasured himself while Bakura was going to heaven and back.

His hips had given up and collapsed on the bed. The zing of the ginger appeared to be gone after all the enthusiastic movement of his thrusting into Marik’s face. His legs and back tingled, and he imagined he could feel every single pore in his skin being stimulated.

Marik’s lazy, barely open eyes were fixed on him, beautiful lips parted. They just looked at each other in their stupor for a few minutes, and he felt they were in a cocoon of complicity, trust and warmth. He braced Marik’s body with his right arm, just to bring him closer.

Marik sat himself up and started pulling the root out. It still prickled, and Bakura couldn’t take any more sensations for the night, so he whined. The ginger was placed on the plate it was brought in on.

Bakura’s ankles were freed from the soft knots, and a hand caressed up his calf, then his thigh, and stopped at the disappearing mark on his buttocks.

As a kid, Marik had read something, words written long ago, a text whose meaning he'd never understood entirely. But now he knew.

 _“Bedesh peHwy merwty nekhet Hry ib wedjaamenty set neferw set_.” Marik spoke softly, with a perfect accent for royalty.

Bakura’s abdomen swelled with fondness. “Nobody has ever recited a poem to me before.”

Marik winced visibly. He felt possessed by someone else, just blurting out his thoughts like that. He squirmed away to the edge of the bed and sat up.

“Stay with me, _mrwy.”_

Marik didn’t say a word; he just picked up his clothes.

“Are you going to run away from me forever?”

“I might.” Marik’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“You can’t, you would have done it already by now.”

“All this…coming to your place, touching and caressing, it feels…odd.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes. It burns.”

Bakura looked intently at the spent ginger on the side table.

“Does it burn enough to be unbearable, but so good you can’t stop?”

Marik only nodded his head.

“You should endure it only when it’s worth it.”

Marik looked down at Bakura again, to his post-sex prone form, limp and exhausted, with a messy mane of hair, bags under his eyes, worn out face, hair stuck on his cheek because of the drool, smelling of sweat, with a lost and tired gaze…his least glamorous state, and he was still as beautiful as a floating water lily.

After that there was not a moment of hesitation. Marik lay on his side, spooning Bakura close, squeezing hard enough for Bakura to stop breathing, his hand roaming all over Bakura’s front.

“I prefer to burn and stay.”

Bakura choked on a stronger emotion than the pungent spice he had been subjected to as he realized the meaning behind the words. Someone would stay there with him, after the burn, after the embers…

 

**Author's Note:**

> { peraa pr-ˤ3 - Pharaoh (talking about mood killers)  
> merwy mrwy- Beloved (I’m not a demotic Egyptian expert but y-ty are suffixes for masculine and feminine forms in words, and I’ve found different suffixes for mr (love) to say beloved, like mrwy and mrwty, so let’s assume it’s in its masculine form, since it  
> Poem: “Oh, I faint at the thought of my deeply beloved’s buttocks and waist, firm thighs and beauty” Anonymous. Badham, Bernard Paul Ancient Egyptian Love Songs with Commentary page 6 }
> 
> Special thanks to the goddess of thiefshipping ChaosRocket for being the most amazing beta reader and Sitabethel for checking this up!


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